


Clark v Bruce

by m_k



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Mash-up, My Dinner with André - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_k/pseuds/m_k
Summary: A mashup ofBatman v SupermanandMy Dinner with André.
Kudos: 2





	Clark v Bruce

_EXTERIOR. A BUSY STREET IN A LARGE CITY._

_Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude plays._

_Clark Kent, dressed in a cheap suit, shleps down a somewhat busy sidewalk, lined with businesses, trash cans, taxis. As Clark walks along, he takes in the sights: tall buildings, interesting architecture. He smiles and nods at someone walking a dog on a leash._

CLARK ( _Voiceover_ ) It’s not easy being a reporter. Anymore I find myself…well, a little disenchanted with the job. I mean, you research stories that somehow never get published. Your salary continually diminishes. Your readership dwindles. And unless you’re willing to promote yourself like crazy, like my friend Lois, you live in anonymity and wonder if you are really making any difference in the world.

_Clark continues to walk, sometimes artfully dodging people reading their texts or jogging._

CLARK ( _Voiceover_ ) I was on my way to interview one of the richest people in the world, who was in town to promote some new technology. A self-driving taxicab, I think. I had made the mistake of mentioning to my editor that I knew Bruce Wayne, and so found myself meeting the billionaire at a restaurant where the cost of a meal is probably half my paycheck.

_INTERIOR. A HIGH CLASS RESTAURANT._

_Inside the classy restaurant, Clark is asking a hostess for Bruce Wayne’s table. A tall man in a dark suit appears and speaks to Clark. Clark raises his arms and looks uncomfortable while the man pats him down and then points him in the direction of Wayne’s table. Clark proceeds, trying to regain his composure and straightening his tie._

CLARK ( _Voiceover_ ) I knew from past experience that Bruce Wayne could be a bit…difficult. But then again, I hadn’t spoken to him in years. Maybe…he had mellowed.

_The music fades out._

_Bruce Wayne, clean-shaven, with a sharp haircut and expensive suit, is sitting alone at a table and swirling a glass of wine in one hand. Clark approaches and stands opposite._

CLARK ( _Hesitantly_ ) Mr. Wayne.

BRUCE ( _Crisply_ ) You’re late.

CLARK ( _Caught off guard, checking his old-style watch_ ) Oh gosh!

BRUCE ( _Dryly_ ) I’m messing with you, Clark. Have a seat.

CLARK ( _Befuddled_ ) Oh…

_Clark sits opposite Bruce, takes out a medium-sized pad and pen. Bruce, watching this, half smiles._

_A haughty, well-spoken server appears._

SERVER ( _To Clark_ ) _May I take your drink order?_

_The server opens the wine list and hands it to Clark._

CLARK Oh, okay.

BRUCE ( _Interrupting_ ) Clark, try the ’49 Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru. It’s what I’m having.

CLARK ( _Looking at wine list_ ) Well, I’m on a budget.

BRUCE I’m buying.

CLARK ( _Cringing_ ) I…shouldn’t drink while I’m working.

BRUCE ( _Perceptively_ ) You don’t drink, do you?

_Clark closes the wine list menu and returns it to the table._

CLARK ( _To server_ ) I’ll have a Coke.

SERVER ( _beat_ ) I’m sorry sir. We have a variety of Pepsi products. Including Pepsi.

CLARK ( _Weakly_ ) That sounds great.

_The server departs._

BRUCE How long has it been, Clark?

CLARK ( _Thinking_ ) Well…there was the Skrull— 

BRUCE ( _Accusingly_ ) Right, the Skrull Invasion! Which you uncovered while you were doing a story on the Bruce Wayne Charitable Foundation.

CLARK ( _Taken aback_ ) Well…they *were* Skrulls.

BRUCE ( _Smiling, yet still menacing_ ) I’m not angry. I’m grateful. I can’t believe those things were using *my* money to build a dimensional portal in north Metropolis. The worst part of town. ( _Sips his wine_ ) I’m lucky you were there.

_Clark looks around the restaurant uncomfortably, perhaps for his Pepsi. There is no sign of it or the server. He picks up his tablet and pen._

CLARK ( _Trying to change the subject_ ) So, a self-driving taxi?

_Bruce Wayne is gazing sourly at Clark, swirling his wine again. The server passes by pushing a cart, on top of which are two flaming desserts._

CLARK ( _Concerned_ ) Oh my! ( _To server_ ) Is that supposed to be on fire?

SERVER ( _Amused_ ) It’s cherries flambé, sir.

_The server continues to wheel the cart toward another table._

BRUCE ( _Cynically_ ) Cherries flambé. Didn’t know that was still a thing.

_Bruce and Clark watch as the server theatrically presents the desserts to a sophisticated man and woman, both about 60 years old, at another table._

CLARK ( _Still concerned_ ) Wow, that doesn’t look safe.

BRUCE ( _Condescendingly_ ) If it wasn’t safe, Clark, they wouldn’t serve it in a restaurant.

_At that moment, the server realizes his sleeve is on fire. Shocked, he tries to pat the flames out with his other arm. The cart is jolted forward and as it hits the table, the flambés turn over and roll, knocking over a glass of whisky. The whole table ignites, including somehow the lady’s long hair._

_Against the sudden screams and pandemonium, Clark and Bruce jump to their feet and look at each other with eyes wide._

_Bruce quickly grabs his briefcase, opens it, removes a slender black cylinder from inside and dashes toward the fiery disaster. The cylinder is a fire extinguisher, which he uses to extinguish the screaming lady’s flaming hair._

_He turns to the table, but the fire there is already out. Clark is standing nearby._

BRUCE ( _Confused_ ) What happened?

_Clark shrugs. Bruce examines the table, which is not even smoking. Cautiously, he touches it, then places both hands on it._

BRUCE ( _Unbelievingly_ ) It’s covered with frost!

_The female patron approaches, her gray hair pinned up around her head. She holds a smoldering long-haired wig at arms’ length._

LADY PATRON ( _Giggling_ ) I totally forgot I was wearing a wig!

 _Clark and Bruce look at each other._

_FADE TO:_

_EXTERIOR. A PARK BENCH—DAY._

_Clark and Bruce are both sitting on a park bench eating from carryout containers, with their drinks in styrofoam cups beside them. They talk while chewing their food._

BRUCE ( _Flat affect_ ) Well, I have to say, that lady was smokin’ hot.

CLARK ( _Chewing_ ) I just hope the waiter doesn’t get fired.

BRUCE ( _beat_ ) The flamboyant one? I wouldn’t get burnt up about it. 

CLARK ( _Cringing_ ) Holy smoke.

BRUCE ( _beat_ ) They sure got this food to us in a flash.

CLARK ( _beat_ ) Someone must have put a fire under ‘em.

BRUCE Well, at least, we—

BRUCE and CLARK ( _Simultaneously, dead pan_ ) —didn’t start the fire.

CLARK ( _Continuing_ ) …Yeah.

_They both continue to eat. After a long silence, Bruce Wayne stares at Clark Kent thoughtfully._

BRUCE ( _Knowingly_ ) Amazing…how that fire seemed to instantly extinguish itself….

_Clark Kent similarly stops eating and meets Bruce’s gaze._

CLARK ( _Countermove_ ) I have to wonder how many other CEO’s keep a utility belt in their briefcase…?

_They both lock eyes for a second, then both look away._

CLARK ( _Sarcastically_ ) It makes sense. I always wondered where Batman got the money for…you know…the Batcar, the Batplane, the Batboat. Am I missing anything?

BRUCE ( _Overlapping_ ) The Batcopter.

CLARK The Batcopter.

BRUCE ( _beat_ ) The Batsub.

_Clark smiles, not really knowing if Bruce is serious or not._

BRUCE ( _Still serious, seemingly_ ) The Batbike.

CLARK Yup.

BRUCE But you…you, I don’t get.

CLARK What do you mean?

BRUCE Oh, come on. What are you doing? A day job? A newspaper reporter? Why do you waste your time with this stuff?

CLARK I have to say…it keeps me grounded. It keeps me connected…to real people. It reminds me, constantly, why I do what I do as Superman.

BRUCE But I mean, there are so many things you could do—all the time—that I *can’t* do. I mean, you’re strong. You could probably bench press…the moon! Whereas I’m just a guy. Bullets bounce off you. If I get shot, I’m in bed for weeks. You wouldn’t believe the scars I have. 

CLARK ( _Offended_ ) Bruce, if I was Superman for 24 hours a day, I’d go crazy. There is literally no end to bad people in this world. No end to wars or famine. No end to cats stuck in trees that need to be rescued. And, you know, you’ve got to let people take care of themselves. If you always step in to help them, they never grow. They have to—to make mistakes sometimes. And on top of that, anymore…I can’t tell who the good guys are and who the bad guys are! Often times they’re both bad.

BRUCE ( _Agreeing_ ) You got that right.

CLARK ( _Forcefully_ ) I just—I wait until the big stuff happens.

BRUCE Big stuff?

CLARK When I hear them say on the cable news, “Where’s Superman? We need him!” Then, I start to think about maybe putting on the cape. But I mean, global warming? These guys need to grow up and take care of it themselves. As for me, I’d rather be…riding my bike to work. Or people watching in Midtown park.

BRUCE Wait, so you’re saying Clark Kent isn’t just a persona you hide behind when you need to? Like, Clark really is who you are? Despite the fact that you’re an alien from planet Zorgon or whatever?

CLARK Well, yeah. I mean, just like you’re not Batman all the time.

BRUCE But see, I *am* Batman all the time. Bruce Wayne has to show up to work on occasion, has to show up to corporate meetings on occasion. But in my head, I’m Batman one hundred percent of the time. And I wish this weren’t true, but…when I’m not fighting criminals, I’m thinking about fighting criminals. In fact, when I’m not fighting, I’m thinking about fighting. That’s why I have all the equipment. That’s why I have a goddamn fire extinguisher in my briefcase. Because I can never stop being Batman.

CLARK That’s heavy.

BRUCE It’s awful! And it never ends. You know, years ago I started having panic attacks. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even close my eyes. So I took this anti-panic stuff called klonopin and some SSRIs. The panic attacks went away and I was able to sleep. But, funny thing, Batman also went away. I lost interest in crimefighting. Lost interest in women. I just sat around Wayne Manner watching reruns of _The Office_ and eating Indian takeout. And one day I realized that eighteen months had passed, and I had done nothing. I had done nothing because I had become nothing. Without Batman, there was nothing left. So I weened myself off the pills, I started working out, and I got back in the game. Without Batman…I am nothing.

CLARK I don’t know about that. Consider this: the Wayne Corporation employs armies of programmers and technicians and factory workers. I mean, you’re giving all those people a job and a paycheck. And a purpose. I mean, maybe that’s your greatest accomplishment. Apart from making money hand over fist. I, on the other hand, employ literally no one. ( _Half jokingly_ ) I’m barely employed myself.

BRUCE I’m sure you're right. But it’s not something I think about. And even if I do think about it, it brings me no joy.

CLARK Well—

_An attractive young woman walks by, with a small dog on a leash, and smiles at Clark._

CLARK _(To the young woman)_ How ya doing? ( _To Bruce_ ) Well, what does bring you joy?

BRUCE Good wine. Fine suits. Miles Davis. You like jazz, Clark?

CLARK No.

BRUCE Beaches used to bring me joy. So, at one point, I bought my own island, with a beautiful beach that extended all the way around. Incredible beauty. White sand, and that blue-green water that seems to glow. I was in love at the time, too. Valerie Vance was this girl’s name.

CLARK Just like Lucy’s sidekick.

BRUCE No, that was Vivian Vance. So, anyway, we spend ten days on this island, and I start to go insane. I was so happy four days in. After eight days, I was done. Ten days in, I was screaming at this poor girl, just treating her like garbage. And she was such a sweet girl. Shoes were the main focus of her life. I’ve never met anyone as interested in shoes as this girl. And, I was just screaming for no reason. And so she hated Bruce Wayne. The staff on the island hated Bruce Wayne. And I hated Bruce Wayne. And I just realized, you can’t drown yourself in luxury, or you become an asshole. So now I do everything in moderation.

CLARK Interesting. Interesting.

BRUCE What about you? What makes you happy?

CLARK Well, like I say, going to work at the newspaper, despite all its failings, actually makes me pretty happy. I like knowing that I have a place to go, and a job to go to. Sometimes, I walk around the city, and I just fall in love with people. You know, just—you see someone, and you know that they are a kind soul. Someone worthy. Someone who…justifies humanity. Maybe that’s an illusion, I don’t know.

BRUCE Uh huh.

CLARK But even the architecture in Metropolis can make me crazy happy. Some of it is ugly, but some of it is so beautiful. I love the sight of the buildings against the sky. The way the sun turns Midtown avenue into a cathedral of light when it sets, with all the glass buildings reflecting off each other. I mean, there is beauty in life, in human life.

BRUCE Yeah, I guess.

CLARK Okay. So, there’s this girl at work. When she’s on a writing streak, which is often, she won’t leave her desk, not even to go pee. She calls my extension and has me run down to the coffee shop in the lobby of the building to get her a mochaccino. This happens almost every day, and I get myself a black coffee, because…I guess I’m boring. So I bring her the mochaccino, she takes it from my hands, looks me in the eye, and says, “You are the best.” And goes back to writing. The end of the day comes, the mochaccino is still there on her desk, stone cold, not a sip taken from the cup.

BRUCE What? Why does she—

CLARK I don’t know. But for some reason I don’t mind doing it—getting her this coffee drink. It gets me out of the office. She smiles so nicely when I bring it to her. It’s kind of the highlight of my day.

BRUCE Huh.

CLARK I know it’s silly. But…you have to learn to appreciate the things that life has to offer you. The structure of it all. The fact that most of what we do each day…isn’t going to make a difference, so we might as well enjoy it. You know, maybe I stay up late watching a movie, I leave my cup of coffee by the couch. When I wake up, it’s still there. I can zap it with my x-ray vision and drink it. And I think it’s that predictability in life, in most of our lives, anyway, that lets us enjoy life. That’s why, without Clark Kent, Superman would go insane. 

BRUCE Jesus…so positive. Maybe I need to take positivity lessons from you. We’re like the Yin and Yang of superheroes.

CLARK Right?

_Both men fall silent for a minute._

CLARK I should really ask you about the self-driving taxi.

BRUCE ( _Annoyed_ ) Jesus, Clark. Who cares? Just make up the quotes. That’s what you guys always do anyway.

_Clark’s cell phone rings. He looks to see who is calling and gives Bruce the “just a minute” sign._

CLARK ( _Answers phone_ ) Hi Mom. ( _Silently listens to his Mom speak_ ) You can’t see your emails because you closed the email window. Click on “Window” in the menu bar. See “View Messages?” Click on that. ( _Pauses to listen some more_ ) Well it never made sense to me either. Okay. Love you too.

_Clark ends the call._

CLARK My mom, Martha.

BRUCE ( _Smiling wistfully_ ) My mom was also named Martha.

_Clark smiles back._

_INTERIOR/EXTERIOR. A TAXI MAKING ITS WAY THROUGH THE CITY._

_Chopin’s Etude Op. 25 No. 1 “Aeolian Harp” plays._

_Clark Kent is riding in the back of a taxi that is taking him home._

CLARK I took a taxi home. It was getting dark, and I was afraid of getting mugged. Not that I was afraid of being beat up, of course. But rather, afraid that I would have to beat someone else up. I kind of felt like that would spoil an otherwise interesting day. Getting to know Bruce Wayne—Batman—I felt like I had also gotten to know myself a little better.

_Clark watches the city rush past outside the cab window._

CLARK I thought of Lois, and her daily request for a mochaccino, and how happy I would feel tomorrow when I handed her that coffee that I knew she would never touch. I thought about how cute she looked, sitting intently behind her computer monitor, and that made me smile. Maybe I would even call her when I got home. If only I could tell her about the crazy conversation I had just had. Would she even believe me?

END


End file.
